Story Unending life, Unending death

My take on how it would literally be to be an mc-war soldier. Dying, but never dying. Killing, but never killing. I'll see if you guys like this enough to want me to take another look at the story.

"Sir you need to calm down, sir... Sir!" A blood encrusted soldier shook the other, hyperventilating mess that had just risen from the grave.
"No... Please. Not another life.. Let me die!" The recently revived coughed out, breath ragged as his body forcefully pulled itself out of the infinite silence beyond life.
"I can't do that sir, we're about to loose control of Crossfire, sir you need to get up!" The badge on the first soldier's torn and singed uniform read 'Joahn'. Something shifted in the officer, a resignation in his eyes. His uniform hung from his frame like a shell, the cloth carried scars of life after life, death after death. His name tag, if it could still be read, would have shown the name 'markus'. Markus stood up slowly, looking around, drawing a sigh of relief from Johan. The room contained shards of wood, stone, and spent bullets. Smoke hung in the room, already long staining the two men with its black fingers.
Sound hit Markus next. An explosion, another, gunfire, screams, hoarse officers shouting orders through bullets, smoke, and blood. The weight of war returned to the man, almost driving him back into his sudden madness. He had died too many times to count, it never got easier.
"Johan, my weapon?" He looked around, not seeing anything but the sidearm clipped to his belt, his tried and true magnum.
"I'm sorry sir, your weapon was lost to stray automatic fire in the firefight that took you out, I dragged you into this building while you revived. Here, I took this off one of the pre-Rez hostiles that rushed our position". Johan unhooked a beaten, dirt covered M16 and handed it to his commander meekly.
"This will do until we get back to our command center, let's go" Markus checked the safety, flicking it off. The two soldiers slowly rose over one of the battered windows, shattered glass cracking under their boots. A battered mess of a soldier groaned quietly nearby, half obliterated by a hostile Demolisher, slowly healing while still conscious. Johan winced before returning his attention to the long sightline between them and their adversaries. An explosion of wood showered them as a hostile sniper took a shot, grazing Markus's helmet.
"Now Johan, go. I'll give you some covering fire" the officer hissed at the other, hoisting his weapon over the lip of the now further damaged window, his burst of bullets causing resounding statements toward their target. Three such bursts hurled themselves at the place Markus had seen the muzzle flash from. Markus hunkered down hard as several other locations opened fire on him. A short roll got the officer out of the way from flying drywall and wood splinters, the sound jarring him possibly worse than the near death situation. After the sound of Johan's boots and the gunfire of the M16 ceased, crushing silence filled the space between buildings. This was when Markus moved, refilling his magazine before bursting out of cover toward where Johan had hunkered down, now deploying a mobile comms system.
From three separate angles Markus was fired upon. A bullet caught him in the arm, another in the leg, his breath and pounding boots keeping him going. Sliding into the last few yards, the officer finally gasped, crying out at the horrible pain radiating from his leg. Fortunately for him, his armor had protected his arm from the stray fire, so he had only one bullet wound to contend with. This was enough to rattle him into disorientation again however, causing a sudden coughing breath again to grip his lungs.
"This is Johan, forward offensive unit, we've been wiped out. Our soldiers have been severely wounded by Demolisher fire, we need evac as soon as possible!". A faint voice returned an affirmative, which was an excellent sign for him and his officer's survival. Johan smiled, almost able to hear the whirring chopper blades coming swiftly to take them out of the sea of quietly suffering bodies. He hoped he wouldn't be sent on another mission in a while, he didn't want to add another death to his experiences, four was more than enough. A sharp sound snapped him out of his stupor. He was reminded that his commander was injured behind him so, hoping to bring some light to the situation he began,
"Hear that commander? We're getting out of..." Johan turned, his face falling, "here...". A smoking hole replaced his commander's left eye, his hand curled into a clawed, bloody mess that he had apparently tried to hold himself together with. Johan looked up, toward the red uniformed soldier standing before him.
"Another kill to my name, another death to your pathetic blue army" he snarled, popping a spent sniper round out of his weapon. Johan's eyes followed the smoking cartridge as it fell into the dust and dirt around them.
"Night night" was the last thing Johan's three hundredth life ever heard.

 

Absolutely no reason to apologize feather, feedback is great and all but honestly I'm just putting my ideas down into words when I get inspiration. Nothing worth apologizing for not reading :v